I talk to Bob at night before I go to bed. I ask him for help and say I love him. This makes me feel connected to what is eternal. I also bless myself as if I were another person altogether. Then I end another simple day. Now that I have a book out, I am more hopeful than I have been in a long time. I feel it will develop wings and go on a journey that I will enjoy.

He came to me in a dream recently and let me know that I was doing fine, spiritually speaking. He wanted me to be less passive toward life and so I am going to share my message freely from this point on with whoever wants it. It is so simple. Everything is in the hands of God. Everything given to God is returned to us on a higher plane. When I am reunited with my lost loves, we will not recognize each other for our beauty.

It is only five years later that his tenderness blesses me unexpectedly. How can that be? He’s dead, after all. The quality of the soul is eternal; it is able to reach down into hearts on earth that feel quite alone. And his soul is tending mine like you wouldn’t believe. It reminds me that he never was anything but supportive of my writing, that he asked me to find my passion before he died (and writing was it). It surrounds me with this house he paid for and the son we raised together. And when I cry a diamond tear, it is often because of his undying love.

For you readers who follow my essays, I express my tenderness in these little notes written without a certain someone coming in to look over my shoulder. But then again, who knows? I would like to think that when I married a six foot four inch Georgia Tech man who thought a slide rule was interesting, I knew what I was doing. I didn’t, for no one ever knows what deals are being struck. I used to think if I had known he would die such a terrible death, I wouldn’t have married him. But in reality there is no such luxury of choice. And since I am on the path of awakening, I now know that love lies far above the realm of choice.

Saying “I do” is not something a twenty-something does consciously. When he came to me in a dream and said to me, “Your prayers are written on the wall of my heart every day,” I realized what our marriage had been about. It was about coming to terms with what love really is. It is something we are, and in the last analysis, is better off undefiled by the ego’s touch. Those glasses I washed are now in a box of his things that I have saved. But the eye that looked on me with love is the one that is also on the sparrow. Tenderness, who doesn’t need some? It comes in small things, not large. It lingers in the heart, expanding it to infinity. It says “I love you” in ways that defy logic. And that’s a good thing.

Vicki Woodyard

I am glad that some of you are becoming friends of the heart and not the mind and that you find my writing to be reminders of what you already know. Enlightenment “coaches” are unnecessary. Best to know that life is not about enlightenment, but self-acceptance.

It is hard for me to begin my eighties with so many daily problems, but hey, I have to accept myself warts and all. Before I came in here (because I had forgotten to take my morning meds),
I had just climbed back into bed because I woke up very early. But here I am, the last two words being the important ones.

Rob and I went to Publix yesterday and we both needed things from Kroger, so he made a late night trip there. For supper we had corn dogs 😉

I have lived through deep waters of sorrow this lifetime, so even going back to bed is a treat. I have all the time I need to practice self-care.

What is your daily life like? Mine is just about getting through the day. No family in town, no social calendar.

On and off throughout the day, I pick up one of my favorite books and read a page or two. They are all saying the same thing, though in different words.

Here is one of MY original thoughts. “Love your neighbor as yourself. Love, your neighbor IS yourself.”

Being one with everything is a full-time job. No wonder I am on my way back to bed. Some of you are sleepy 🙂

Vicki Woodyard

I think about the words of Jesus: “Be still and know that I am God.”

The first thing is to be still. That means slowing down my thoughts and my very body.

The next thing is to know that the “I am” is God and not my ego.

I begin to breather slower and more consciously.

I let my body relax and get looser.

I let my frantic mind slow down.

I let go of what I think about politics for the “I am” is not involved in them.

I let go of my perceived physical problems because thinking doesn’t help.

I continue to breathe until I remember that in the words of Jesus, “Of mine own self, I can do nothing.”

That’s it. That’s the path in a nutshell.

Rinse and repeat.

Vicki Woodyard

“Where have you been all my life?” I ask my soul, my heart, my gut. It is not a small question. No hands go up. Silence. Zip. Nada.

I feel the slipperiness of the question, like a goldfish flopping in my hand.

“I mean, you know, like why don’t you make yourself known more often?”

You could cut the tension with a knife.

I am always yammering in my own ear.

I am not political, but angry words are being hurled online all day long and I can get caught up in it.

The truth stays away from bitterness, feuds and fiction.

I lean back against my office chair, full of coffee and coconut cake.

I am satisfied with my own company if my soul, my heart, my gut, do not reply.

Wait a minute….

She just showed up. Gotta get another piece of coconut cake for her.

Vicki Woodyard

After hearing that a dear friend’s husband has been diagnosed with cancer considered incurable, I sat down and went silent. And the words, “the order of deep sorrow” came to me, for I am a sister of that order. It is an invisible order that human beings are initiated into when there has been unimaginable pain.

The pain belongs to all humanity, but until you can admit you belong to it, it remains unhelpful. Then you are too busy to have time to reflect on it.

I have read hundreds of books and written thousands of essays about the spiritual path, but the crown of thorns is never mentioned, yet we all have to wear it eventually. You see, society advises you to get on with your life and I have done that.

My life now is about nothing but honesty and I have so much of it that I still lie to myself about. Honesty is holiness, but it has to be a humbled honesty.

I have little advice to give my friend; I can only write endlessly about human suffering, whether acknowledged or not. We give our little performances but they never touch the suffering.

The suffering is sacrificial, though, so there is an alchemy that can occur when one surrenders to the suffering for even a moment. We would rather hide it, but that doesn’t work.

These essays are typed in blood and surrender to what is. This is not a dramatic statement but the first step into conscious healing of the soul long battered by lies.

We all want comfort when none is available. What is available is a simple prayer: “God help me right now.” That is enough until you realize you must continue to say it all of your life.

The true path leads to death of the ego; the most difficult part is acknowledging that you and your loved ones are not immune from suffering; the way is not around but through.

I love what my little sister used to chant, “May the Long Time Sun Shine Upon You, All Love Surround You, and the Pure Light within you, guide your way on.”

Weep and then wrap the whole world in the light. Amen.

Vicki Woodyard

I never belonged anywhere, although it appeared that I did. Once you see through all the lies at once, it is rather freeing to stand alone.

That is why I was led to Vernon Howard, that no-nonsense boogeyman of a teacher. He yelled the truth at us and we loved it, for we knew he saw through our lies.

Society is built lie upon lie and children are innocent until they are old enough to see through the games that grownups play.

Becoming free is not a choice that many of us are interested in because it requires you to face the lies. And yes, you are part of the echo chamber that they reverberate in.

My husband Bob was led to Vernon at the same time that I was, so we flew out to hear him speak. That began a decade of visits until Vernon’s death in the late eighties. (I don’t recall exactly when it was.)

Then came Bob’s cancer and I was left to grieve and study and that is what I have been doing for years. But the grief is now small enough to bear and studying is no longer necessary for me. I write instead.

I never belonged anywhere; belonging is a lie in and of itself. It is perpetuated by those uninterested in what it takes to live an inner life.

Living an inner life allows me to beat the drum of these essays any time I feel the urge come upon me.

Belonging anywhere just puts off the inevitable self-discovery that some of us are called to do.

I never discuss my inner life with anyone except in these notes. You know how it is….

Deep inside of us there is a knowing with a capital “K.” That knowing loves you and will never lead you astray.

Believe you are strong enough to bear the burden of truth and it will become light. And so will you.

Vicki Woodyard

My life has been one of duty. I am a perfectionist, which is a real drag on joy. Sorrow I have known, but joy is fleeting for me. I find a certain sense of completion when I write, however. I do not mince words, as most of you know. Something happens to me and I write about it.

Everyone talks about the moment but few actually experience it, including me. The reason for that is that we are always striving to be seen in a good light. We fear rejection and therefore court anyone who will pay attention to us for even a second. Facebook was built for that.

I look around the house and think that I must get my ducks in a row. The ducks are covered in dust! I would downsize but I don’t have the energy for a major move. But the bathrooms have never been updated, nor has the kitchen. The kitchen bar is faux wood, a popular look in the 80’s.

I don’t have an eye for design, so I have tried using a decorator, but only for minor things. The last time was about 12 years ago. There won’t be a last time because eventually the house needs to be sold.

This house has scads of room since it is an open plan. I donate stuff to a charity once a month in a puny attempt to keep things in order. We let the maids go when covid began and now Rob is the one that does their work. All I do is dust and fiddle around.

He has organized the spices and everything in the pantry. I take a box of cookies out and put it back at random. He spots the box and puts it back where it is supposed to be. Oy. He is a very good cook as well.

What does this have to do with awakening? Everything has to do with it, every iota of dust on every tabletop on earth. We miss the beauty and the glory because we think we have to create it ourselves!

There is a man-made beauty, just as there is a man-made religion. What we have to do is recognize that just beyond our reach is a truly surrendered life.

Duty and perfectionism are sterile and empty pursuits, for joy is left out of those thankless tasks.

This essay is pointing to the need to be present, even with all of our fake and fading images. Nothing more is needed. “Take off one thing,” is the advice given when dressing for an important even. We should also take off one thing that is distracting us from real beauty—our endless drive to be happy. Spirit is spilling over with happiness; it is we that are deaf, dumb and blind to it.

Vicki Woodyard

We are all hungry for living food. Nature knows how to provide it, yet we do not know how to provide it in a healthy manner. Jesus spoke of the manna coming down from Heaven and His Father knew how to provide it. Yet we feed on scraps and rotten morsels contained in cardboard containers carrying non-healthy preservatives.

Well, we do the best we can, we tell ourselves on a daily basis. And that can range from healthy raw food to pudding cups loaded with sugar.

My days of going to church are long gone, since sermonizing to me is like eating from a pudding cup. These days I feed directly from source, in as many ways of the Word as I can find it. I am forever both falling from grace and falling into unhealthy eating habits.

You see, it’s like this. Society is veraciously hungry and will feed on whatever it is easiest to feed on. The multitudes are unhealthy and unhappy. That is the goal of a mechanized society.

I will now copy and paste what I wrote down to nudge my brain into yet another essay:

“I cannot re-visit the Past or pre-visit the Future. I, therefore, am an active visitation of God. I, alone, constitute all tenses and pretenses. I can only know this as I type these words, like a mother bird feeding her nestlings pre-digested food that they are eating now. Life is ironic if nothing else.

Vicki cannot know the above paragraph; sadly, she is immersed in her role, as it feels so real to her as to be, well….real ;)”

When I say that I am an active visitation from God, I mean the “I am” in every single solitary one of us. Not you or me.

I think of how hard Leonard Cohen toiled to make his every word shine, no matter if it was sacred or profane. You see, rising above the opposites that language forces us into is possible for all of us.

“Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering….” (You know how it goes, if you don’t Google the quote up. I never tire of listening to the truth.)

Vicki Woodyard

I am waxing poetic this morning while pondering my daily state of mind. It can only be called “a torn glory.” Hmm. Where shall I start when there is no starting point for the eternal soul in which I dwell only temporarily.

Yes, you heard me. I, Vicki, am torn by my ego versus my ego. (You have my permission to smile, for we are all in the same mess, which Jesus described to us so eloquently. We all live in divided houses and there are remnants of memory about heaven which we can occasionally contact.

We do this by going silent for as long as possible, for silence is our balm of Gilead the world knows nothing about. We all have tricks to calm ourselves down and most of them involve food and being online or watching movies streaming at us 24/7. We prefer anything to silence.

It is said that I have a large angel with me and I have never felt it. I believe it is there, however, even though I am a stubborn case. I persist in being miserable and sorrowful much of the time. When I come in here to the keyboard, however, I see the words forming on the screen as they come to me. No, I am not channeling; that would be much easier. I am just so dedicated to screwing myself up that I keep on keeping on. Some of you recognize the stubbornness with which I write.

I also have a sense of humor and in these times that is essential. Oh, and a sense of proportion when the media is always riling us up. Say it with me: “My kingdom is not of this world.”

I have an online friend who is always reminding me that the only way out of this world is to die to it. And when you die, you are happily resurrected into the living moment. We are always in it; we just flail and flap around in the waters that would drown us in order to resurrect us as the eternal beings that we are.

So now I am beginning my daily experience of “a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants.” And yes, you have my permission giggle.

Vicki Woodyard

I started off my morning after breakfast by sitting in silence for about twenty minutes. I never do anything but breathe and watch my thoughts arise and pass away. Since thoughts are not things, they offer no resistance to their impermanence.

The silence is the underpinning of the Soul and no one can be anything but that. And that is enough and plenty.

Now that I am a witness to my thoughts, the silence encourages me to keep letting go until I reach the bedrock of acceptance.

I got dressed and went outside to take a brief walk. I got sidelined when I decided to stop and pull a few weeds between my yard and my neighbors. I pulled up pine seedlings, poplar seedlings and weeds that were easily pulled. Soon I had an armload and walked back to my garage to dispose of them in the garbage can. Then I went back and pulled some more.

I came back in the house and took off my tennis shoes and sat down to rest. Pulling mental weeds is a lot harder than actual weeds you can see. And maybe they have deeper and more persistent roots.

My weedy little self is lazy, self-important and insecure at the same time. Her only goal is firmly out of reach and she is too dumb to discover this.

The game of weed vs. weed is played out in the world everyday. It’s a funny scenario that the human race has going.

At some point political weeds will be pulled up, but more will be planted. The roses and the lilies of the field are not toiling at all. They are not even interested in the battle of the weeds, for it is all they can do to bestow their beauty on a sleeping world.

Vicki Woodyard